


2020 Hannibal Bingo Prompt Fills

by house_of_lantis



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: 2.7 Takimono, 3.13 Wrath of the Lamb, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - The Soulmate Goose of Enforcement, Dark Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Humor, M/M, Matchmaking, Memory Palace, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Season 1 Revisioning, Team Sassy Science, Werewolves, Will Graham is a Cannibal, Will Graham is a Tease, crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:01:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26240803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/house_of_lantis/pseuds/house_of_lantis
Summary: These are fics that are going to be fairly short, around 1000 words. Each chapter explores different AUs, tropes, and story ideas for the Hannibal Bingo, and maybe possibly expanding them into longer fics later!Tags will be updated as characters and warnings appear in each chapter.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 50
Kudos: 78
Collections: Hannibal Bingo





	1. The Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/BtsJIOw)   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Werewolf Will; Werewolf hunter Hannibal; Canon level violence.

Will ran. He ran through the unfamiliar terrain of the Maryland woods, panting deeply, trying to ignore the pain of the silver arrowhead that was embedded into the back of his right shoulder. He had just enough willpower to change back to his human form before the silver could inhibit the changeover, but had lost ground during his escape on two legs instead of four. 

He fell against a large tree, looking up through the leafy canopy above to see the bright full moon in the night sky. If he was going to die, then at least he could die under the moon’s brilliance. He hoped that someone would go check on his dogs, if anyone even noticed that he wasn’t at work. 

The hunter was a relentless pursuer and Will knew that it would be any moment that the hunter would be able to see him. The hiss of the arrow whistling past his left ear and burying itself into the thick trunk of the tree that Will had collapsed against to catch his breath, was too close for comfort. He drew in large lungfuls of air through his mouth and looked up to see the hunter walk into his sight line, holding the crossbow pointed at Will. 

“A pity that you’ve changed back. I would’ve gladly skinned your fur to add to my collection. Instead, I’ll take your organs - your heart, perhaps even your kidneys.” 

Will wiped the spittal from his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes flicking up to stare at the familiar face. “Hello, Dr. Lecter.” 

“Will?” 

He watched, warily, as Hannibal stepped closer, the crossbow still aimed at Will’s throat. 

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag now...for both of us.” 

“Indeed. It has been a long chase.” 

Hannibal stared at him for a long moment and then let out a short breath, slowly lowering the crossbow to his side. “You’re injured. Let me check the wound, please.” 

Will collapsed to his knees, leaning against the tree for support, as Hannibal moved closer towards him. “Tried to pull it out but it’s in too deep. Broke off the stem.” 

Hannibal set the crossbow to the side, away from Will but still close enough for Hannibal to reach if he needed it. He carefully touched Will’s shoulder, moving him forward to look at where the arrow had embedded itself. 

“I use custom made broadhead arrows with three razor sharp prongs. You wouldn’t have been able to pull it out without ripping a hole the size of a fist,” Hannibal said, softly. “There is only one way to remove the arrow safely.” 

Will gritted his teeth and nodded. “Yeah, through the front.” 

“I can help you, Will,” he said, his hand moving to the broken arrow stem. 

Will didn’t even finish his nod, screaming as Hannibal pushed the arrowhead through, the deadly tip cutting through muscles and god knew what else, to the front of his shoulder. Will grabbed hold of Hannibal’s black jacket, trembling as Hannibal pulled the rest of the arrow from the front of the wound, setting it aside. 

Hannibal held him close, dark eyes focused on Will’s face, his pain, drinking it in. “Stupid, reckless boy.” 

He could only offer up a hoarse laugh in agreement. He was stupid and reckless; he should’ve left Wolf Trap as soon as he recognized Hannibal Lecter as a master werewolf hunter. The last of his legacy; his other name, whispered in certain circles, was the Ripper. 

The pain of the silver burned through his shoulder, searing and fiery, but Will could feel the wound healing so he collapsed against the tree, the rough bark scratching against his naked skin, letting out a loud noise of relief. He watched as Hannibal tucked the broken arrow into one of his jacket pockets, picking up his crossbow as he got to his feet. 

Will swallowed, looking up at him. “Did you know about me when we met?” 

“I suspected,” Hannibal said, softly. “My instincts said that you were a werewolf, but yet you didn’t exhibit any of the signs of one.” 

“And you eat your kills.” 

Hannibal smiled at him. “A good hunter never lets a kill go to waste.” 

Will felt his strength returning, his instincts telling him to slash Hannibal’s throat, and to run far away. But he liked his life in Wolf Trap. He liked his small farmhouse, his pack of dogs, and his work at the Academy. 

“What happens now?” 

“That depends entirely on you,” Hannibal said, taking another step back, still holding the crossbow. Will noted that an arrow was still in the flight groove, the string pulled back and ready to be triggered. 

He rubbed his sore shoulder with his hand, sighing deeply. “I’m not leaving Wolf Trap. This is my home.” He looked up at Hannibal. “So if you’re going to kill me, do it. Just...promise me that you’ll go check on my dogs and make sure they go to good homes. That’s the least you can do, if you’re going to eat what’s left of me.” 

“I would like to invite you to dinner at my home, tomorrow night, at 7 o’clock,” Hannibal said, evenly, his face hidden in the shadows. “I’m sure that we can come to an accommodation that doesn’t include your death or mine.” 

Will nodded, even though he was still suspicious. “All right.” 

“And Will,” Hannibal said, turning to leave. “Nothing I serve at my table is vegetarian.” 


	2. Acts of Contrition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/VrRw1oF)   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episode Revisioning; Discussion of infidelity; Discussion of cannibalism.
> 
> Note: Dialogue is from Hannibal Season 2 Episode 7 Yakimono, but has been revised to suit this story. Also, please forgive any mistakes with references to religious ideology.

Hannibal sat at his desk, allowing the beautiful strains of Bach’s  _ Cello Suite Number 2 in D Minor _ , performed by the incomparable Yo-Yo Ma, to ease the day’s tensions from his body. He picked up the glass of 2018 Caymus cabernet sauvignon, swirling the dark liquid in the glass as he inhaled the fragrant bouquet - ripe dark berries, a hint of cocoa, and aged oak. He normally preferred Chilean reds, but the 2018 Napa Valley sourced wine had an excellent layered flavor and velvety tannins. He had another bottle at home, and he considered pairing it with a roasted lamb in the future. 

The ornate standing clock ticked over to half past seven and his eyes fell on the opened page of his leather bound appointment book, seeing Will’s name written on the paper, the last appointment of the day. 

He felt his lips curve into a small smile as he moved to his usual armchair, setting his wine glass on the table beside it. He leaned against the plush leather cushion back, closing his eyes to better enjoy the music played by a true, living virtuoso. 

A soft knock at the door disturbed his reverie, but he was not displeased. He stood and walked to the door, opening it. 

Will, as he expected, stood in the waiting room, turning around slowly to look at him. Hannibal noted that he had cut his hair and was dressed in a dark salmon colored shirt and black pants. There was a focused and calculated air about him as he gave Hannibal an attentive look. 

Oh, this was a new game, one designed wholly for Hannibal to want to play; and indeed, he intended to play. 

“Hello, Will.” 

“May I come in?” He said, softly. 

Hannibal always appreciated politeness and he grinned, admiring Will’s charming attempt at pleasing him. 

“Do you intend to point a gun at me?” 

“Not tonight,” he said, a small smile ticking up the corners of his lush mouth. 

How Hannibal had missed him these past few months; he knew his sentimentality towards Will would likely be his downfall but he was unable to refuse the temptation that was Will Graham. 

He opened the door further, inviting Will into his office. As Will passed him through the doorway, Hannibal took a delicate and unobtrusive sniff, delighted that Will only smelled newly showered, with a hint of lavender soap and his usual earthy, natural scents. He watched as Will looked around the room, hearing the music and gazing at the glass of wine. 

“Are you expecting someone?” Will said, turning his head slightly to look back at Hannibal. “Alana, perhaps?” 

Hannibal closed the door, knowing exactly why Will had come tonight. “Only you.” 

“Have you kept my standing appointment open then?” 

“I would never give up your time without your permission.” 

“My permission?” He drawled, the coy inflection in his voice was unpredictable and Hannibal wondered if he would feel Will’s fury or Will’s disdain. “Funny thing: permission. I don’t recall giving you my permission when you forced me to swallow Abigail’s ear.” 

“We must move beyond accusations, Will.” 

Will draped his wool coat on the back of the leather chair that he normally took during their meetings. 

“I have to deal with you...my feelings for you. My feelings  **about** you.” He said, somewhat accusatory. 

Hannibal slipped his hands into the pockets of his dress pants and took a few steps closer to Will. He knew that Will would not forgive easily and he was prepared to pay his penance. 

“Shall we grieve for what we have lost and what has changed?” 

Will turned and faced him. “I feel like I’m the only one changed.” 

“Our relationship doesn’t need to be over,” he said, stepping closer to Will. “It can evolve beyond our past.” 

He watched, cautiously, as Will reached out to take his right hand from his pocket, gently pushing up the sweater sleeve. He unbuttoned the cuffs and folded the edges back to look at the healing scar on his inner wrist. He brushed his thumb along the raised edges and Hannibal bit back his groan, watching as Will examined the wounds left by his proxy. 

“It had to be Alana, didn’t it? To make it believable; to make it hurt the most.” 

“Have you finished punishing me for Alana then?” 

Will glanced up at him, standing so close so that Hannibal could watch as Will’s pupils dilated, the black overtaking the blue of his iris. “These weren’t because of Alana; these were for Abigail. And for me. Alana is...something else.” 

He had counted on creating jealousy within Will; but to what dark depths those hooks had pierced Will’s soul were yet to be determined. Hannibal was enormously curious to see what would happen if he tugged on the hooks. 

“How shall I make my amends?” 

Will’s lips curved into a smile, his eyes darkening. He released Hannibal’s hand and sat down in his usual place, looking up at him, waiting. 

Hannibal took his seat across from Will, crossing his leg and folding his hands on his lap. “Where shall I begin?” 

“If you want our relationship to evolve past your indiscretions, then I do need a genuine show of contrition from you,” Will said, looking at him. 

Hannibal remained composed, even as a tremor of excitement flooded his body. “Confession, satisfaction, and absolution. Are you in a forgiving mood, Will?” 

“I can be...persuaded if you show a sincere examination of your conscience, provided that you have one.” Will chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter if you do or not, as long as I’m the one satisfied.” 

“And what is required of me to satisfy you?” 

Will licked his lips and gave Hannibal a fond look. “I think we should start with dinner. I’m rather fond of liver.” 

“Do you have a specific source in mind?” 

“Something to cleanse  **both** of our palates,” he murmured, meeting Hannibal’s eyes. 

Hannibal smiled at him, his dark and delectable boy. He had a date with Alana for Saturday night, but best not to tell Will about it, now that he was willing to return to Hannibal. He would cancel his date with her, and then quickly dispose of her with plenty of time to prepare dinner. A part of him noted the sacrifice of an intellectual protege, but it was a price he was willing to pay to satisfy the wicked rapture of the man sitting across from him.

“How does Saturday evening at six o’clock sound?” 

“It’s a date.” 


	3. Performance Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/d8dF6ah)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/B/O; College AU; Will and Beverly are Betas; Hannibal is an Alpha; Discussion of Dynamic stereotypes and A/B/O sexuality politics

Will didn’t give much attention to dynamic stereotypes. He remembered going through puberty as a Beta, and aside from some embarrassment of the physical changes that his body went through, he was relatively unscathed by the experience. He did have a lot of empathy for his Omega and Alpha peers though. They seemed to be hard hit with extreme and intense emotional fluctuations and physical changes. He had witnessed a few meltdowns from the safety of his back row corner desk, watching his classmates experience the highs and lows of hormones and aggression. He tried to ignore the locker room talk of knot sizes and Alpha ruts; of calling an Omega in heat a wet hole; of how much it probably sucked to be a neutered Beta. Mostly, he was happy to be left alone and to graduate high school in peace. 

College wasn’t that much better, but at least most people were settled into their dynamics and had grown out of their juvenile dynamic prejudices. George Washington University’s city campus was a respite from the more overblown dramatics of first time adult relationships and sexual exploration. Will could integrate into a mostly Beta crowd and not get caught up in what Beverly called “the dynamic crossfire.” 

“It’s really more like sexual guerrilla warfare, but my Intro to Dynamic Ethics professor didn’t like it when I called it that,” she said, smirking at Will as she reached across their outdoor cafe table to steal his french fries. 

“Hey, come on, get your own,” he growled at her, trying to read his Sociology textbook. He was stuck re-reading the same damn paragraph because he couldn’t stop staring at the guy two tables away. He was drinking green tea and eating from what looked like a fancy black lacquer bento box.

He was an Alpha, tall and well built. His dark ash blond hair was neatly trimmed and brushed smoothly. He was an international student, originally from Lithuania, but had studied in Paris and Florence before transferring earlier that summer to GWU to finish out his senior year. He had a close knit circle of friends and he was very serious about his studies. There was a lot of interest in him, a lot of gossip about him, and Will thought that he was kind of stuck up when they met at the start-of-year non-dynamic mixer. 

Beverly caught him staring and she turned around in her chair to see who he was watching, and she turned back to Will with a knowing grin on her face. 

“Ohhhh...Hannibal Lecter, huh? You’ve got it bad, Graham.” 

“Cut it out,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t find him interesting.” 

“I can tell when you’re lying. I’m a Beta, too, and I think he’s hot, even though he’s not my dynamic type,” she said, stealing another of his french fries. “I didn’t think you were into Alphas.” 

“I’m not. I’m not into anyone or any dynamic. I just want to get through our second year.” 

“I heard he’s already gotten early acceptance to Johns Hopkins for medical school. Apparently, he got the highest MCAT score in the country and they’re practically giving him money to attend their school. Who knows, maybe they’ll throw in an Omega or two to try and tempt him -- “ 

“Don’t,” he said, frowning at her. “He’s not like that.” 

“ _ He’s not like that? _ He’s not like other Alphas? He’s a good Alpha?” She said, teasingly. “He’s a fucking thoroughbred Alpha, Will. Look at all the Omegas around him, they’d do anything to get a chance to ride his knot. It’s a wonder that he’s not already with someone, but I heard that he’s extremely picky. He’s already shot down like half the Omega population and he’s only been on campus for two months.” 

He made a face. “Where do you even hear -- nevermind, I don’t want to know.” 

“Jesus, I bet he has the biggest knot. I bet it takes hours for his knot to go down.” 

Will groaned and pressed his hands to his eyes. “For the love of God, Beverly, please stop talking like that.” 

She giggled, giving him an apologetic smile. “Graham, are you a virgin?” 

“I’m not a virgin,” he said, drily. “I just...don’t think it’s appropriate to speculate...that kind of stuff.” 

“Dynamic sexual liberation, Graham, get with the times. Betas can and do have awesome sex lives, no matter what anyone says that the Alpha-Omega pairing is the best one.” 

He laughed, helplessly, shutting his textbook. 

“But you know, it would throw the entire campus into chaos if an Alpha like Hannibal Lecter dated a non-Omega,” she said, contemplatively. “It might even cause an Omega riot if they found out that Hannibal wasn’t into the O-dynamic, that his real preferences laid elsewhere.” 

Will’s phone buzzed with an incoming text message. He snatched up his phone before Beverly could get to it and checked the screen. 

_ That is a highly entertaining conversation that you’ve found yourself in, Will. I hope you’ll join me for dinner at my apartment tonight. You are very welcomed to put Miss Katz’s speculations to the test. _

He grinned, trying to hide his blush. He shot off a quick reply. 

_ See you at six okay?  _

_ I count the minutes until your arrival. Have a good day, my love.  _

He sent a heart emoji in response and shut his phone off, making sure to lock the screen, and tucked it into the front pocket of his plaid shirt. 

“Good news?” Beverly said, her brown eyes bright with knowing. 

He shrugged it off, not making a big deal about it. He watched as Hannibal placed his bento box and utensils into a small bag, getting to his feet and clearing his table neatly. His eyes followed Hannibal as he walked to the trash station, disposing of his used napkin and paper cup. The Alpha paused for a moment, checking his phone, and tilted his head to look at Will. He gave Will a smile and then turned, walking down the sidewalk towards his apartment, three blocks away. 

Will smiled to himself, opening his textbook and letting out a deep sigh. He wondered what Hannibal would make for dinner. 

“I’m totally on to you, Graham,” Beverly said, leaning back in her chair, her eyebrow raised. She stole another one of his french fries, eating it slowly and she stared at him. 

He pushed the plate towards her, sharing the fries. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, looking at his textbook, a small smile curling his lips. 


	4. Will Graham's Red Light District

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/BIGE0cH)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit; Season 3 Episode 13; Post-fall AU; Memory Palace; Dark!Will; Cannibal Will and Hannibal; Canon Level Gore

Will walked slowly down the long dark, endless red hallway, stopping now and then at a glass door. He peered inside, watching the scenes play out between two people, and then he moved on to the next series of glass doorways. Sometimes, Will opened the door and stepped into the room, feeling the memory from a distance. He could easily take on the feelings of either person - perpetrator or victim - and soak in the pleasure or terror. Whenever he turned to leave, they would call for him. 

_ “See me…know me...witness us...”  _

He opened the door and stepped back into the hallway, walking on. Not all of the rooms were filled with blood and death; a multitude of them were simply intimate and loving and gentle, especially his memories of Molly. She was an earthy, beautiful woman, unafraid of sharing her inner world with him. He always regretted that he couldn’t share more of his inner world with her. But then again, he didn’t want to taint her with the ugliness and depravity of his mind. 

His memories of Wally and of fatherhood were located in a different place in his mind, far from these halls. Those few rooms were secret, locked behind dozens of thick forts within his memory space. He didn’t visit these rooms often, and when he did, he stood outside and looked into the memories, as Wally stared at him in silence, his dark eyes wide and hurt. He would never step inside again. 

Will wasn’t sure what he was looking for; he thought that if he saw it, then he would know it. His fingers traced along the cool walls of the red hallway and Will continued walking at a slow pace. There was a new corridor that branched to his right, but it was a place that Will rarely went down. Today, he needed his curiosity sated, so he walked into the new hallway, coming to the first glass door on the left. 

Inside, Hannibal sat on his sleek and modern black leather armchair, dressed in a navy blue and white three-piece suit, one leg elegantly crossed over the other. His necktie was a brilliant turquoise and purple paisley, matching his pocket square. His black shoes were polished and unscuffed. His ash blond hair was neatly parted on the side, long bangs brushed perfect. His hands were clasped in his lap, and he met Will’s gaze with a small, patient smile. 

Will touched the glass with the fingertips of his right hand as he looked into the room. This was a room that he used to visit often, especially during the first year that Hannibal was imprisoned at the BSHCI. It was how Will remembered him: perfect, articulate, and elegant. Polite and charming, always patiently waiting for Will to enter the room. This was when Hannibal’s person suit was untouchable, before Will stripped it off of him and saw beneath the lies. 

Hannibal’s eyes flared red for a moment and Will reached for the doorknob, turning it as he opened the door, stepping inside. 

He closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of sandalwood and cloves and citrus. It always reminded Will of something clean, of musk, of being in the woods on a crisp autumn morning, of being on a hunt, of standing in Hannibal’s kitchen in his Baltimore house. 

“Good evening, Will.” 

“Hello, Doctor Lecter.” 

“Why have you returned to using my last name? I thought we were beyond such formality.” 

“You like it when I call you Doctor Lecter.” 

“Won’t you have a seat?” Hannibal said, motioning his hand, an identical chair appearing in front of him. 

Will shook his head. “No, thank you.” 

Hannibal merely nodded his acceptance, the chair disappearing. “What would you like to talk about tonight?” 

Will licked his lips. “I just want to look at you.” 

“Of course, Will,” Hannibal said, amiably. 

He walked around Hannibal, studying him intently. Hannibal didn’t move; he wouldn’t move unless Will commanded it. This was Will’s domain and Hannibal always obeyed him in this room. And in all the other rooms along this hallway. Will reached out and touched the nape of Hannibal’s neck, his skin warm against Will’s fingertips. 

“I could squeeze your neck with my hands.” 

“Is that what you would like to do?” Hannibal said, his voice more amused than afraid. Will didn’t think that Hannibal was ever afraid of anything. 

Will placed both of his hands on Hannibal’s shoulders, squeezing the firm muscles underneath the many layers of Hannibal’s tailored clothes. The suit was always so perfectly fitted for Hannibal because it kept the monster under wraps. He swallowed thickly and ran his palms up to Hannibal’s neck, wrapping his hands around it, measuring the girth of it with his fingers. It was a strong neck, not too thick and not too thin, but he could break just like any other neck. 

“It’s such a fragile part of the human body in the wrong hands,” Will whispered, stretching his fingers, walking them forward so they covered the front of Hannibal’s neck, caressing the bob of his Adam’s apple. 

“Or the right ones,” Hannibal murmured, softly. 

Will felt the way Hannibal’s voice vibrated against his fingers and he let out a hiss as he squeezed his fingers against Hannibal’s trachea, just hard enough to cut off Hannibal’s breath.

_ “What are you dreaming, my darling boy?”  _

Will squeezed harder, trying to shut out the voice. He gasped when he felt wet warmth suffuse his cock, releasing his hold on Hannibal’s throat as he grasped for the edge of the back of Hannibal’s chair. 

_ “What has gotten you into this state I wonder?”  _

“Fuck,” Will hissed, dropping his hand to his hard cock, pressing against the pleasure filling him. He didn’t want to leave the room yet, but he was being inexorably drawn out of his mind, to the feel of Hannibal’s mouth sucking on his cock, to the sounds of the slick wetness and Hannibal’s low hum of pleasure as Will opened his eyes, looking at him. “Hannibal -- “ 

Hannibal pulled his mouth off of him slowly, tongue tracing around the head to savor the taste of him. Will let out a full body shiver and moaned quietly. 

“You were touching yourself and saying my name,” Hannibal said, smiling at him. “I was only endeavoring to make your dream a reality.” 

Will let out a laugh and wiped his hand over his face, looking around at their sunny living room. The three balcony doors were opened and Will could hear the crashing of the waves outside. He had dropped the book he was reading on the carpet below and gotten lost in his own memory palace. 

“Come up here,” Will said, holding out his hand and reaching for Hannibal. 

Hannibal moved to him so he was sitting on the edge of the silk couch, one hand holding the back of the couch and draped over Will. His dark eyes looked soft with good humor and desire. Will curled his hand behind Hannibal’s neck, fingers squeezing the nape. He felt just like the Hannibal in his memory palace, and Will trembled at touching Hannibal’s fragile neck. Will kissed him on his lips, chaste and sweet, keeping his eyes open as he watched Hannibal. 

“Were you dreaming of me, Will?” 

“In a sense.” 

Hannibal’s smile turned wicked. “Shall I finish you now and then take you upstairs and have you again?” 

“Yes,” Will said, meeting Hannibal’s dark eyes with a shake of his head. “Just...let me have this moment. Go back to what you were doing. Finish me off like that.” 

“With my mouth?” 

Will licked his lips and nodded. “Yes. With your mouth.” 

Hannibal gave him a wide grin, showing his sharp canines. “Are you saving this moment in your memory palace?” 

Will inhaled deeply as Hannibal’s warm mouth covered the tip of his cock, soft tongue sliding around the head. He felt his thighs trembling against Hannibal’s chest and clenched his muscles, pressing against Hannibal with his knees. 

“What other moments do you keep there?” 

Hannibal took his cock deeper into the cavern of his mouth, slipping down into his tight throat. Will bit his bottom lip and groaned, loudly, and whimpered when Hannibal pulled off of him, taking a deep breath. There was just a small tinge of fear with the pleasure, knowing how deftly Hannibal used his sharp teeth to rend flesh. Hannibal smirked, knowingly. 

But Will knew that this particular monster wouldn’t strike against him, not until Hannibal had no other choice but to consume Will for good, for the last time. 

“When will you share those other moments with me? Perhaps I can fulfill them as well.” 

“Just...memories...fantasies,” Will said, reaching down to caress Hannibal’s cheek. 

“Do you fuck me or kill me?” 

“Both...at the same time,” he whispered, uncertainly. He frowned slightly, watching Hannibal’s face carefully for all of his micro-expressions. 

Hannibal smiled, chuckling from his throat. “How delightfully kinky. We will have to reserve some time to fully explore them.” 

Hannibal returned his mouth to Will’s cock, taking his time. Whatever urgency Will felt, Hannibal merely grabbed hold of his hips and held him down against the slippery silk couch, preventing Will from changing the pace of his pleasure. Will sighed, one hand clutching the edge of the sofa, the other curled over Hannibal’s head, fingers pressing encouragingly for Hannibal to hurry. 

When he came, the force of pleasure surprised him, and he arched against the cushions, his cries uninhibited as Hannibal swallowed thickly around him, coaxing more from Will with his clever tongue. Will gasped, limp on the sofa as Hannibal licked him clean, careful kittenish licks as dark eyes watched Will greedily. 

“Kiss me,” Will murmured, reaching for Hannibal and tugging him closer. “I want to taste it.” 

Hannibal’s mouth was slick and tasted bitter, his tongue moving into Will’s mouth and scraping his tongue on the tops of Will’s teeth, pushing his spit and come deeper into Will’s mouth. For all of Hannibal’s elegant manners, he was a dirty fuck who enjoyed subtlely humiliating Will. 

Will dropped his hand on Hannibal’s thigh, caressing the lean muscles with the palm of his hand, until he felt the heat and weight of Hannibal’s hard cock through his linen slacks. He squeezed it with a hard grip, making Hannibal groan against Will’s lips. 

“You are feeling particularly feisty, my darling boy,” he said, pulling away to look down at Will’s face. 

“I thought you were going to have me here and then take me upstairs and have me again?” He said, grinning up at him. He pressed his thumb against the head of Hannibal’s cock, feeling the damp warmth of his pre-come through the soft linen that Hannibal favored in the balmy southern French environment. 

Hannibal threaded his fingers through Will’s hair, grabbing a handful and pulling his head back, using just a hint of pain and force. Will closed his eyes and whimpered, arching his neck and baring himself to Hannibal. 

“Anything you want,” Hannibal said, his eyes narrowing as he gazed down at Will. 

*** 

Will sat on the balcony overlooking the foamy pale blue ocean, listening to the soothing sound of the high tide waves pushing up the beach. He inhaled deeply and slowly, tasting the salt in the air mixed in with the scent of strong coffee wafting from his mug on the glass balcony table. Will would have thought that Hannibal wouldn’t want to be near water after their fall off the cliff, but it wasn’t something that triggered him. 

Next month would be a year since they fled the States and finally settled in Biarritz, a beautiful coastal town in the Basque Region of France. Hannibal’s private 19th century villa, purchased under several shell companies, would be impossible to trace without French government complicity. But Hannibal’s legion of lawyers and questionably legal bankers had already greased a few wheels and the French authorities were quite liberal about leaving them alone. 

Will walked into his memory palace, thinking of the last time he saw Bedelia alive. He kept the memories of her in a special room, sitting at the end of a grand table, beautifully coiffed and dressed, as she stared in horror at her leg shank roasted to perfection. 

He pushed open the glass door and stepped inside, gaining her attention. “Good evening, Bedelia.” 

“You sick coward,” she hissed at him, cheeks flushed an unflattering red. “This is your fault!” 

“I did warn you to pack your bags as a courtesy. You should’ve listened to me,” he said, walking to the table, smiling as he saw all the little touches that Hannibal displayed on the table. “He’s really outdone himself this time. This is a feast worthy of royalty.” 

“I assure you, I am merely an aristocrat,” Hannibal said, walking into the dining room, holding a crystal decanter of red wine. “An old family title, though some of our sphere of influence was lost due to political turmoil in the country. However, in many old European circles, my title is still quite valid and legal.” 

Will chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re so pretentious, Hannibal.” 

He poured the wine into their glasses, moving behind Bedelia and striking out with his hand to grab the small, sharp fork from her grasp. 

“Behave, my dear,” Hannibal said, charmingly. He gently tucked her hair behind her ear and Will watched as Bedelia flinched from his touch. 

Hannibal pulled out the chair for Will with a courtly flourish and Will sat down, nodding his thanks. He watched as Hannibal carefully set down the decanter, picking up a large serving fork and knife, sliding it into the meat of the roasted leg. 

“It cuts like butter,” Will commented, approvingly. He flicked his eyes at Bedelia, smiling. “A very lean meat.” 

“You’ll have to forgive her if the meat tastes slightly acidic. I cannot imagine that Bedelia kept up with her pescatarian diet after leaving Florence.” Hannibal carefully served Bedelia three thin slices of the meat onto her plate, pausing to cock his head, regarding her with subdued excitement. Will watched as she glared up at him. “I do hope you’ll enjoy your entrée after providing such a wonderful protein.” 

Bedelia made a face. “Oh shut up, Hannibal.” 

Will sipped his wine, watching as Hannibal sliced the meat, placing three slices on his plate. The flesh of the meat looked juicy. “Thank you, Hannibal.” 

“My pleasure, Will.” 

Bedelia made a rude noise, rolling her eyes. She gulped down her wine and slammed the glass on the table. “You’re both so pathetically co-dependent, you’re so textbook that it’s laughable.” 

Hannibal ignored her as he served himself and sat down in his chair, undoing the button of his suit jacket. He lifted his wine glass and Will followed suit, smirking at Bedelia. “To old friends.” 

“Don’t let the meat get cold, Bedelia,” Will said, impossible to hold back his nastiness. He sipped the wine, letting the fruity taste slide over his tongue. 

“If you think that I’m going to eat  _ that _ ,” she said, distastefully and sneering at Will. “You’re delusional.” 

Will picked up his utensils and carefully cut into the meat. “I’m not delusional. I’m probably the most clear-minded than I’ve ever been.” 

Hannibal smiled warmly at him, chewing slowly. Will placed the cuts of meat into his mouth and looked over at Bedelia as he savored the taste knowingly. She had gone pale, her hands shaking on top of the table. 

“Hannibal, I think you’ve outdone yourself,” he said, sincerely. 

“Thank you,” Hannibal said, pleased. He grinned coyly at Bedelia. “My dear, you shouldn’t let the meat go to waste, especially after making such a worthwhile sacrifice.” 

Bedelia glared at him. “If you are planning to kill me, just do it now.” 

“We’re not going to kill you, Bedelia,” Will said, looking at her somewhat fondly. “Hannibal and I couldn’t agree on the best way to dispatch you, so we decided to compromise and let you live as a reminder of who and what we are.” 

“Disgusting cannibalistic murderers,” she hissed at them. “You’ll pay for this!” 

Hannibal sighed, beleaguered. “Bedelia, I did warn you.” 

Will laughed, giving a little shrug. “You know what they say: if you can’t beat him, join him.” 


	5. The Soulmate Goose of Enforcement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/wp64qOf)  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Season 1 Revisioning; Soulmate Trope; Goose Trope; Immortal Matchmaking Goose; Goose Attacks Will, Hannibal, Everyone; Crackfic!
> 
> Note: I think the trope The Soulmate Goose of Enforcement came about in the Check Please fandom, and made its way to Supernatural, Sherlock, Marvel, and many others. The original prompt by a tumblr user named shitty-check-please-aus posted this prompt: “Soulmate AU where one person finds a goose who leads them to the other person; the difficulty comes in not being mauled by a goose.” The summary for “The Soul Abortion” is based on “The Terminator.” I think I may expand this into a longer story in the future!

Like everyone else, Will grew up learning about how there was a perfect soulmate for everyone in the world. Their soulmate would be their perfect complement physically, mentally, intellectually, and spiritually. Souls were immortal, and because of that, the universe was predestined with perfect pairs that existed through time and space. 

But some people never got a chance to meet and know their soulmates, perhaps because their soulmate died before their time. Or they had given up on looking for their soulmate. Those who had lost their faith often fought against their destiny, preferring to live out their lives alone and unfulfilled. People believed that fate was cruel but never capricious; the universe was always right. 

Will thought it was all a crock of bullshit. 

When he was a teenager, he watched a sci-fi movie called  _ The Soul Abortion _ , about a cyborg from the future who was sent back to the past to assassinate the unborn child of a young woman and her soulmate, their son would grow up to lead the human resistance in a futuristic war against the soulless machines. 

The cyborg’s prime directive was: _ I am my fate.  _

The movie was widely condemned and was considered not only controversial, but immoral and sickening. The filmmakers and the actors were so despised that they were run out of Hollywood and never made another movie again. It never played in public again, except at a few arthouse theaters, and Will loved that movie. He didn’t buy into the whole perfect soulmate thing and preferred to live his life knowing that his fate was  **his** choice and decision, and not some pseudoscience crap about the universe. 

So for the last thirty-odd years of life, Will never looked for his soulmate, and was content to live his life in peace in his small house, with his pack of dogs, and his career in forensic pathology studies. 

What Will forgot to consider was that the universe hadn’t gotten the message to let him off the hook. And the most difficult and stubborn cases received some outside help: an intervention, so to speak, by the universe. That intervention often came in the form of an immortal goose, whose entire existence was in enforcing the soulmate bond...by any means necessary. 

By  **any** means necessary. 

Including attacking the hell out of their human charge. 

*** 

Will didn’t know what woke him up, but the side of his calf stung. He reached down to rub the spot, feeling the soreness of a new bruise forming on his calf, when something bit him. 

“Fuck!” 

He opened his eyes and sat upright in bed, looking at the large black goose standing on the mattress, its head turned to the side so that it stared at Will with a red, beady eye. It was a beautiful specimen, unearthly beautiful, with sleek black feathers and a dark red beak. It was probably about three-feet tall, including its exceptionally long neck. 

“How did you get in here?” He said, sliding backwards on the bed, eyeing the goose cautiously. 

The bird extended its black wings and ran right at Will, honking and slapping at his head furiously with both wings. Will shouted in alarm and curled his arms protectively over his face, trying to kick off the bed sheets tangled around his legs so he could make his escape. 

“Ow! Stop! Stop it!” He shouted, holding up his arm to catch the worst of the wing battering, getting bit on his wrist for his troubles. He slid off the bed, landing in a heap on his right side on the hardwood floor. 

The bird honked loudly with a disappointed sound, it’s long head leaning over the bed to glare down at him. Will turned on his stomach, intending to get on his knees and then his feet, when he felt the surprisingly heavy weight of the goose as it landed on his back, honking and biting clumps of his hair, tugging meanly. 

“God damn it, bird! Okay! I give up! Quit it!” 

The goose nipped his earlobe and jumped down from Will’s back, webbed black feet tapping in place as it waited for Will to sit up. 

Slowly, Will touched his ear and his clumpy hair, sitting on the floor and leaning against the side of the bed as he stared at the goose. It honked twice at Will, introducing itself.

“Uhhh...Otto? That’s, uh, that’s really your name?” He said, squinting at the bird. 

The goose - Otto - gave him a low, warning squawk, flapped his wings twice, and tapped his feet on the floor again. 

“No, no! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you. Otto, yes, that’s a good name.” 

He let out a deep breath, trying to figure out how a goose had gotten into his house...when it finally occurred to him that it wasn’t an ordinary goose. Will was deeply empathetic on his best day, but he certainly wasn’t telepathic with animals. 

“Shit...you’re my soulmate goose, aren’t you?” 

Otto hissed and held out his wings, running for Will to smack him on his face for being an idiot. 

“Okay, I got it! Cut that out!” He gingerly touched his face, wincing at the new bruise. He was probably going to have a black eye. 

The goose seemed to glare at him and took a few steps back, folding his large wings down, and stood still, his long neck raised regally. 

No one really knew when or why a Goose of Enforcement showed up for some people, but not for others. Enforcement Geese were normally large, white birds and they remained with their human charge for just a few weeks, ensuring that the soulmate was properly bonded with the right person. But when a black goose showed up, there was no guarantee that the goose would ever leave, even after ensuring the bond. It meant that the universe had lost all patience and was going to actually force the issue; that the person who had denied that destiny played a significant role in their life couldn’t be trusted to bond and remain bonded. Will groaned, rubbing his hands over his sore scalp, shutting his eyes tight. 

“This can’t be happening now. Why now?” 

Otto snorted derisively and made a low trilling sound, almost like a laugh, and turned away from Will to examine the rest of Will’s house. He watched as Otto waddled confidently towards the dogs, each still in their beds, who were watching the goose warily. 

“Some guard dogs you all turned out to be,” Will groused, holding the edge of the bed and getting off the floor to sit on the mattress. 

The goose made his way to each of the dogs, honking softly at them and flapping his wings to show that he was the new alpha of the pack, and then bit each of seven dogs in quick succession. Buster growled and barked at the goose, getting on his stubby little legs. Otto made a shrill noise at the smaller dog, his long neck giving him the reach he needed to nip at Buster’s rear, sending the dog yelping in pain towards Will. 

Will picked him up and rubbed his sore spot. “Yeah, he got you, too, didn’t he, boy? Best not antagonize him.” 

Otto nipped Winston on his floppy brown ear, and when Winston didn’t react, the goose cocked his head to get a good look at the large dog, folding his body down to sit on the floor beside him. 

“How long are you going to hang around?” 

The goose turned his head to Will, the merciless red eyes staring at him. 

“Look, Otto, I...appreciate that you’re trying to help me but I...I don’t need a soulmate,” he said, softly. “I like my life the way it is.” 

Otto snorted, feathers bristling as he wiggled on the floor. He cocked his head at Will and blinked as if to say, I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t such an idiot. 

Will rolled his eyes and hugged Buster, setting him down on the floor as he got up. He walked to the front door and opened it, whistling for the dogs to go out for their morning activities, holding the screen door open as he stepped out into the cold autumn morning. The goose followed behind him and jumped off the low front porch, chasing after the dogs, wings flapping, and honking excitedly. Well, that was kind of adorable. 

But he had to figure out how to convince his immortal goose soulmate matchmaker to believe that he didn’t want or need a soulmate, no matter what the universe or destiny or fate had to say about the state of his love life. 

Otto, he would soon learn, was nothing short of a sadistic little asshole. 

And what did that say about the state of Will’s soul and the kind of soulmate partner that was fated to be with him. 

*** 

For the most part, Otto was a pretty decent companion. His students stared at him in open fascination and giggled when they realized that he had an Enforcement Goose. Thankfully, the novelty of seeing a rare black Enforcement Goose wore off real quick when Otto waddled around his lecture hall to bite some of the more annoying students. Secretly, Will had to admit that he was enjoying walking down the halls with Otto ambling along by his side; he had seen a few of his students turn and run the other way whenever they saw his goose. 

He thought that they would probably wash out of the rigorous training program if they were scared off by an Enforcement Goose. Otto turned his head towards Will and nodded, honking in agreement. 

*** 

Will walked into the forensic labs of the BAU, Otto at his heels, when he saw Zeller, Jimmy, and Beverly examining a body on the metal gurney. 

“Hey, Will, Jack was looking for you. He’s up in his office,” Beverly said, looking over at him. She looked at the goose, her eyes widening with surprised pleasure. “Oh my god, is that…” 

“Wow, you look like you had a rough night,” Jimmy said, squinting his eyes and pulling on his glasses as he looked Will over. “A very rough night.” 

“No pets allowed, Graham,” Zeller said, smirking at him. 

Otto honked in protest and flared his wings to their full, intimidating width, stomping across the floor towards Zeller. He raised his head to bite Zeller on his upper thighs, snagging a beakful of his shirt and ripping the fabric. 

“Oh shit! Get it off me! Get it off!” Zeller screamed, scrambling backwards and clutching his groin with both hands to shield himself from Otto’s ferocious attack. “Jimmy! Bev! Help me! For fuck’s sake, Graham! Jesus, I’m bleeding!” 

Will shrugged, smirking slightly. “I don’t control him.” 

“Oh how lovely, you have a black goose. You know, it’s rare for a black Enforcement Goose to appear. You must be giving the universe a very difficult time,” Jimmy said, mildly, walking slowly towards Otto, trying to distract him from killing Zeller. “Goosey, goosey -- “ 

“His name’s Otto,” Will said, dryly. He found that he was a little insulted on Otto’s behalf, being called “goosey goosey.” 

Otto must have felt the same way because he broke off from his attack on Zeller to turn to honk at Jimmy, hopping towards him and biting him on the arm with an annoyed snort. Will could tell that that wasn’t even a hard bite, that Otto wasn’t trying to deliberately hurt Jimmy. It probably didn’t even break skin. 

“I’ve never been bitten by a goose before,” Jimmy said, his eyes wide with astonishment. 

The goose hopped up on an empty metal gurney and toddled slowly to the other end, looking at Beverly. 

“Otto, no,” Will said, warningly. 

“Oh, you won’t control it for me, but for Beverly, it gets a warning?” Zeller complained. 

The goose lowered his head shyly, tucking his beak against his wing, beady red eye looking up at her. 

Beverly grinned, her face softening with pure joy, as she reached out slowly with one hand to run the back of her fingers against Otto’s feathery chest. “Hey there Otto, aren’t you a beautiful boy?” 

He unfurled his wings, showing them off to her, and raised his neck to preen for Beverly. Will watched in awe, staring at Beverly, wondering if...if Otto had led him to his soulmate. The goose continued to coo, fluttering his tail feathers playfully, and pushing his head against Beverly’s chest as she petted down his long, curved neck and fluffy feathered back. 

“I think he likes you, Beverly,” Jimmy said, smiling fondly as he rubbed his arm with his hand. 

“It figures that Graham would have a psychopathic goose,” Zeller said, arms crossed in front of his chest, but maintaining his distance from both Will and Otto. 

“Watch your mouth, Brian,” Beverly said, giving him a dirty look. “Anyone with an Enforcement Goose is lucky, it means that the universe is making a course correction.” She smiled at Will, petting Otto’s long neck. “Someone up there wants you to be happy, Will.”

Will met her dark eyes and walked closer. “You...you wouldn’t happen to be...uh…” 

She grinned and shook her head. “Sorry, but it’s not me, Will. I can’t hear him. I just think your goose likes me.” 

He wasn’t disappointed, but he wasn’t relieved either. But he nodded and smiled fondly at her. Immortal Enforcement Geese didn’t just let anyone touch them; so Will was pretty sure that Beverly was going to play an important role in his life somehow. 

“You know, you’re the only person that he hasn’t bitten or attacked.” 

“Better go up and see Jack before he comes looking for you,” she said, giving Otto a final pat on his back. He grabbed her hair with his beak and gave it a little tug, grooming her rather than pulling, and let her go with a soft honk goodbye, jumping down the gurney to waddle towards Will, looking up at him expectantly. 

Will stared down at Otto, quizzically. The bird’s red eyes were no nonsense and he jerked his head towards the doors. There was something intentional in the goose; especially when he unfurled his wings and slapped at Will’s legs, trying to push and herd him out into the hallway. 

“Good luck, Will,” Jimmy said, waving to him. 

“Don’t bring that killer bird back to the labs again, Graham!” Zeller shouted at him. “That crazy bird is a lawsuit just waiting to happen!” 

Otto honked loudly back at Zeller, and Will laughed, walking out into the hallway. 

*** 

Otto headed straight for Jack’s office, kicking and slapping at the glass door, honking loudly and pecking at the glass with his beak. 

“All right, all right, calm down,” Will said, pushing the door open and watching as Otto waddled into the room, flapping his wings and honking at Jack and the tall man in the room. 

“What on earth -- “ Jack said, trailing off as he burst out of his chair, standing behind his desk and looking around frantically before picking up a brown file folder with his hand, staring at the goose with what looked like terror on his face. 

Will sighed, bending down to try and corral the excited bird. “What the hell is wrong with you? Calm down. Calm -- ouch! Hey!” 

The goose slapped him across the face, knocking his eyeglasses nearly off his face. Will fell on the carpet, trying to get a hold of Otto while trying to protect himself from the numerous bites on his cheek, his neck, his chest, and both of his arms. The goose was honking frantically, slapping his wings against Will until he had to curl up with his arms over his head. Otto pounced on his back, jumping up and down on him. 

“Jesus! Do I shoot it? I’ve got a clear shot!” Jack said, his weapon in his hand as he circled the room. “Will! Are you okay?” 

Otto turned to squawk at Jack, and jumped down from Will’s back. Will looked up from his position on the floor to see Otto waddle towards the tall man who was standing at the other side of the office. 

“Careful, he bites!” Will said, straightening his glasses on his face as he sat up. 

“Indeed.” The man said, his tone amused as he watched the goose make his way towards him. 

Will watched as Otto stopped in front of the other man, fluttering his wings slightly, and made what looked like a very polite bow to the man. 

The man smiled and returned the bow with a polite one of his own. 

“Otto, is it? The pleasure is mine. You are quite magnificent.” 

Will swallowed, staring at the man, blinking stupidly up at him. He watched as Otto gave a soft honk, then turned, one of his wings outstretched towards Will. Otto looked up at the other man and jerked his head. 

“I see,” the man said, looking at Will, his plush lips curving into a small smile. 

Otto tapped his feet in place in an impatient series of  _ taptaptaptap _ . 

Jack holstered his weapon, standing behind his desk, his eyes on the goose. “Will, what the hell is going on here?” 

“I can answer that question, Jack,” the man said, looking at Will. “My name is Hannibal Lecter and I believe that I am your soulmate.” 

Will blinked, his mouth falling open. 

Otto honked and bit Hannibal on his hand. 


	6. Information Exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/1EzOvIO)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meeting for the First Time AU; Opera; Dark Themes; Discussion of Human Trafficking; Dark Hannibal; Cannibal Hannibal; Dark Will; Mafia Boss Hannibal; Information Broker Will; Hannibal Rising Characters; Protege Alana Bloom; Advisor Bedelia DuMaurier 
> 
> Author's Note: And that's a bingo! Woot! Woot!

Hannibal appreciated the elegant civility of meeting his contact, a man named Will Graham, at the Baltimore Opera House. It spoke volumes of the man who requested the meeting - the fact that he had discovered Hannibal’s love of opera - and sent him a ticket to one of the better private balcony seats with a handwritten note in sharp, slanted writing:  _ I would be honored to discuss the future possibility of a partnership _ . In his line of business, Hannibal witnessed uncommonly bad behavior and was often offended by discourtesy, finding it ugly and distasteful. He found most people to be ugly and distasteful as well, so it was common for Hannibal to... _ recreate _ such wastefulness into something breathlessly beautiful...and delicious. 

In certain circles, Hannibal had earned a reputation for being ruthless to his enemies, brutally punishing disloyalty, and honoring those he deemed worthy of his respect and trust. Some whispered the names  _ Ripper  _ and _ Hannibal the Cannibal _ , though never to his face; and the unlucky few who crossed him never lived for very long. There were rumors that Hannibal personally dealt with those who betrayed him, screams echoing from his basement abattoir. He knew that most of those rumors were started by his own people, easily defining the rules of working with and for Hannibal. The rewards could be great and people flourished under Hannibal’s hand; the risks were even greater for those outside of Hannibal’s protection. 

Only his closest captains knew the immeasurable pain of Hannibal’s life - the loss of a beloved younger sister, Mischa. She was sixteen when she went missing in Paris while on a vacation with her two friends. 

_ “It is too dangerous; she will be exposed and unprotected,” Hannibal said to his advisor, Bedelia DuMaurier.  _

_ “She’s young and adventurous. If you deny her a chance to flutter her wings, she may do something reckless,” Bedelia said, kindly.  _

Hannibal hadn’t wanted her to go and they fought horribly until he finally relented, but only on the condition that she and her friends would take his guards and listen to their counsel. He had tasked Vlad Grutas and five of his men to keep an eye on Mischa and the other two teenagers. Three days into her Paris trip, none of them were ever heard again. 

Hannibal had tracked and easily found all five of Grutas’s men, enjoying their money and their new lives, sordid and despicable. He enjoyed killing them slowly and painfully. They all pointed to Grutas as being the one to lead them astray, and they swore that Mischa and the other girls were alive, but sold on the market. Hannibal’s business was in weapons and banking; he refused to deal in drugs or trafficking.  _ Grutas had gotten greedy _ , they said.  _ Grutas wanted to start his own empire _ , they said.  _ Grutas wanted to bring Hannibal down from his high horse _ , they said.  _ Grutas knew that Mischa was Hannibal’s weak spot _ , they said. They all swore, with their dying breaths, that Mischa was still alive. 

For years, Hannibal had nearly bled himself dry in his search for his sister and Grutas. He had even tried to work with the official law enforcement agencies and was bitterly disgusted by the bureaucracy and utter laziness of the officers and agents he met. He knew that they were unlikely to help him because he and his businesses were untouchable. He eventually tasked two of his best captains to find and bring his sister home alive; and if that wasn’t possible, then to bring home her body so that he could offer her a proper burial with all the respect and rituals due to her from the Old World. Six months ago, after nearly 20 years of searching, Hannibal was finally able to lay what remained of his sister’s bones to rest, next to their parents in the family cemetery at Castle Lecter. 

Hannibal could now devote his life to finding Grutas, who had lived his life as a dead man walking and it was time to collect. His people reached throughout their vast network to hire the best information brokers, but none so far were successful. 

It was his protege, Alana Bloom, who came to Hannibal with a name. 

_ “There is someone that we haven’t tried yet. His name is Will Graham. He’s former law enforcement but quit his job, out of the blue, and walked away from everything. I don’t even know where he lives now, but I have a contact number for him. He specializes in difficult cases...but he’s kind of a difficult case himself.”  _

_ “Why haven’t you suggested him to me before?” He said, holding his anger in check. For now.  _

_ “Mostly because I didn’t want him involved. He’s...he struggles; he gets too deep into the minds of bad people and he can’t always find his way back out,” she said, compassionately. “Hannibal, he’s not like the other information brokers we work with. He doesn’t do it for the money. He doesn’t do it because you threaten him. He’ll either help us or he won’t. And if he says no, we’ll never find him again.”  _

_ “Call him...and tell him about Mischa, about all of it,” he said, softly. “Tell him that I’ll return a favor, any favor, that he asks of me.”  _

Surprisingly, Will Graham accepted the meeting. Hannibal knew that Alana had told the man everything. The information broker had requested this meeting at the opera house. Hannibal thought it was smart and strategic; to meet face-to-face in full view of the public, to keep their words soft and courteous, and to perhaps even enjoy each other’s company and stay for the performance. Despite multiple attempts, Hannibal and his people couldn’t find a lot of information about the information broker. There was the public information about him: that he was in his 30s, former law enforcement, extremely private to the point of paranoia, and unafraid of getting his hands dirty. Hannibal was curious about the man; his name was carefully guarded by those he helped, none willing to give it up, and loyal enough to accept death rather than to betray him. Hannibal wondered what it was that had gained Will Graham such respect and regard. It was obvious that the information broker was competent and trustworthy, but what else was it? 

Hannibal would soon discover it for himself if this information broker would be able to find Grutas - and Hannibal would pay any price that the broker would demand of him. 

“Hello,” a man murmured beside him, his voice low and countenance shy. 

Hannibal smiled, nodding his head politely. “Good evening.” 

He watched, unobtrusively, as the man signaled the bartender for a glass of champagne. He took a sip and let out a deep sigh, gazing out at the sea of the well-dressed attendees, the enthusiastic hustle and bustle of the crowd. 

“It’s a nice turn out,” the man said, glancing up at Hannibal with a reserved tone of voice. 

“Are you a fan of opera?” Hannibal said, turning his body towards the man, politely giving him his attention. 

The other man also turned, looking at Hannibal with a wry smile. “I wouldn’t say fan, though I appreciate the artform. Do you come here often?” 

Hannibal chuckled, keeping his voice soft. “And if I said that I did?” 

The man joined in with a soft laugh of his own, a flush on his cheeks. “That was pretty lame. I’m out of practice.” 

“With flirting?” 

_ “Socializing,” _ he said, meeting Hannibal’s eyes with a pair of very pretty pale blue-grey eyes. 

“If I may, I would say that you are doing quite well.” 

The man chuckled, sipping his champagne, and turned slightly to look out at the crowd again. 

There was nothing especially noteworthy about him, but Hannibal’s instincts were whispering cautioned interest. Nothing stood out to make the man look out of place; he was dressed in a simple tuxedo, tailored to fit him well but nothing overly extravagant. His dark brown hair was thick with curls, neatly brushed in an attempt to keep the riotous nest tamed. It looked soft and clean and Hannibal had an itch to run his fingers through the man’s hair, watching the curls form around his fingers. He was conventionally handsome and Hannibal had no doubt that when the man was younger, he was probably referred to as being beautiful. 

“I’ve never watched  _ Tosca _ . Do you know the story?” 

“You are in for a veritable treat to all of your senses,” Hannibal said, looking over at the other man. “It’s a story of love and sacrifice, and begs the question how far someone is willing to go to save a loved one, when the sacrifice is nothing but degradation, and made doubly so by the sting of betrayal and loss.” 

The man raised his eyebrows and chuffed out a soft laugh. “Wow, those are pretty dark themes.” He paused and looked at Hannibal for a long moment. “You seem like a man who understands.” 

Hannibal grinned, carefully shuttering his face, and then finished his drink, setting the empty glass on the bar. “I believe that the tragedies of life can only be thoroughly experienced in an opera.” A discreet chime filled the lobby and he gazed at the handsome man one last time. “Ah, we should find our seats. Have a good evening.” 

“You, too,” the man said, his head cocked slightly as Hannibal gave him a polite nod, making his way to the wide staircase. 

He knew his way around the opera house, having been a member for many years. He would usually take his seat on the second floor balcony, reserved for him each season for the amount of money he donated annually to the opera house foundation. But tonight, he would go to the third floor private room with their own concierge service, to meet with the mysterious Will Graham. 

Hannibal ordered a glass of his favorite red wine and took his seat on the plush red velvet chair, raised and angled towards the stage. The view was marvelous and Hannibal was very pleased to have the experience, even if his business with Will Graham did not come to fruition. 

The curtain opened and Hannibal stood, expectantly, and blinked in surprise as the man from the lobby bar entered the room, nodding his thanks to the concierge staff. 

“Mr. Lecter, I’m Will Graham,” he said, holding out his hand, a small smile on his lips. 

Hannibal reached out and shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Graham. I hadn’t realized that I was speaking to you downstairs.” 

“You’ll have to forgive me for being a little underhanded,” Will said, motioning his hand for Hannibal to retake his seat, and sitting down in the chair beside him. “I like to scope out clients before meeting them officially.” 

“To get their scent?” 

“You can tell a lot about a person with small talk. It’s not necessarily the mundane topics, but the manner of the person as they speak to a complete stranger,” Will said, settling into his chair and gazing at Hannibal. “You’d be surprised how many turn out to be assholes before they know that they’re speaking to me. And I don’t work for assholes, Mr. Lecter.” 

Hannibal felt his lips curve into a small smile as he looked at Will, finally seeing under the mask of the shy stranger. He was no soft, demure man; he was a predator underneath. And like an effective predator, he was clothed beautifully to lure in his victims, striking them dead. A flutter of excitement filled his belly as he met Will’s unflinching gaze, letting him take Hannibal’s measure in turn. 

“Please, call me Hannibal,” he said, softly. 

Will nodded his head in acknowledgement. “Then please call me Will. You can tell me what you need from me during the first intermission. I’ve heard that this opera will be a treat to all of my senses.” 

Hannibal grinned, settling into his seat as the house lights dimmed and the stage lit up brightly, setting the first scene. 


End file.
